


The Sandwich Chronicles - Welcome Back

by ithinkwehitametaphor



Series: Sandwich Chronicles [1]
Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26461822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkwehitametaphor/pseuds/ithinkwehitametaphor
Summary: "It’s 10 pm and you’re settled comfortably on the couch with a bowl of vanilla ice cream in your lap. A soap opera blares its drama into the living room as you sit, hunched over, trying to desperately follow the big reveal of who’s secretly related to whom.In your state of absolute concentration, the sudden chime of the doorbell sends you jumping. The bowl almost slips from your hands but you manage to catch it just in time, and put it down safely on the table.You tiptoe to the door and peer through the spy hole. Every nerve ending tingles with excitement when you see who’s there. Without giving it a second thought you open.“Steve! I thought you wouldn’t be back until Monday!”
Relationships: Steve Murphy (Narcos)/Reader, Steve Murphy (Narcos)/You
Series: Sandwich Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923721
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Welcome Back

It’s 10 pm and you’re settled comfortably on the couch with a bowl of vanilla ice cream in your lap. A soap opera blares its drama into the living room as you sit, hunched over, trying to desperately follow the big reveal of who’s secretly related to whom.

In your state of absolute concentration, the sudden chime of the doorbell sends you jumping. The bowl almost slips from your hands but you manage to catch it just in time, and put it down safely on the table.

You tiptoe to the door and peer through the spy hole. Every nerve ending tingles with excitement when you see who’s there. Without giving it a second thought you open.

“Steve! I thought you wouldn’t be back until Monday!”

Steve Murphy gives you a mischievous smile in reply.  
“They let us off the hook early and I thought I’d try to catch the first flight back to Bogotá. Surprised?”  
He spreads his arms wide, tilts his head.

It’s all the invitation you need to rush forward into a hug. Your fingers dig in Steve’s leather jacket and you take a deep breath against his chest. He smells of a long flight, coffee and cigarettes but it’s all good. You’ve missed this. Not that you get a bear hug from him at work every day but now and then… It’s definitely been a long two months without your best friend. Or as Javi likes to tease, work husband.

You linger just a bit longer in his arms before you pull back and take another good look at him. Steve’s hair is slightly greasy, his clothes are rumpled from sleeping in an airplane seat. He’s definitely tired.

“Haven’t you been home?” you ask.

Steve shakes his head. “Nah, I thought I’d swing by here first, say hi.” There’s a hint of pink on his cheek.

Then his brow furrows.  
“Say. Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

You look down on yourself, then back up at him from where he suddenly seems to tower over you. _  
Shit. Oh shit.  
Oh._

During Steve’s absence you have made it a habit to snuggle up in that dark blue denim shirt of his. What could be the harm in that? And of course you put it on tonight of all nights. Ugh. You should have known this could come back to bite you in the butt.

Acutely reminded that all you’re wearing is said shirt, some black panties and your fuzzy pink comfort socks, you wrap the fabric closer around yourself. It was supposed to be an evening of chilling on the couch and that’s exactly what you’re dressed for.

“You left it at work,” you blurt out, unable – or unwilling – to come up with an excuse.  
“I took it home to keep it safe and—give it back. Once you’re home, I mean. I thought… Well.”

You stem your hands in your hips. Why be all defensive about it?

“I missed you, okay? So yeah, I’m wearing your shirt, Steve Murphy.”

His face lights up and he starts to laugh softly. “It’s fine. Keep it. You look nice. You really do.” Steve bites his lower lip, eyes still on you.

“And you look tired, like you need a sandwich and a beer,” you deflect, taken aback by the compliment.

“Mhm. I hoped you would say that. Airplane food was terrible. And I’m pretty sure the fridge at my apartment is empty.”

He eventually moves past you, drapes his leather jacket over the back of a chair and slumps down on the couch.

While you prepare some food in the open kitchen space, Steve volunteers some information on the last weeks of his work trip.  
He’s been away for two months in total, back in the US to give advice on recruitment and training. Something equally nebulous and boring sounding. But the DEA wants to send more agents into Mexico. Steve isn’t allowed to talk about it in too much detail.

You grab two bottles of beer from the fridge and bring the freshly prepared platter of assorted small sandwich bites into the living room.

“So, what was home like? Apart from the boring DEA stuff?”

Steve shrugs. He reaches for one of the delicious little morsels and stuffs it in his mouth.  
“Great,” he says, still chewing. “But _you_ weren’t there.”

“Oh, shut up!” You give him a good-natured poke in the side as you sit down next to him.

“No, really. All these people. Boring. And nobody brought me sandwiches to work either.”  
Steve takes a long sip from the cold beer.

You lightly lean against him and then steal some food from the plate since you have declared the bowl of vanilla ice cream lost, no longer interested in the melted remains.

When the last piece of sandwich is gone, Steve sighs contentedly. “Thank you. You know I appreciate that you prepared food for me, right?”

“Yeah. Believe it nor not.” Your voice softens. “I do.”

Pointing at the muted TV screen, Steve gives you a sideways glance.  
“Don’t tell me you’re still watching these damn soap operas.”

You snort, mock indignant. “Yes, I do. You’re only miffed because _you_ don’t speak enough Spanish to get the plot.”

“I thought you don’t get the plot either?” Steve retorts.

“That has nothing to do with my Spanish and I should never have admitted that!” You throw your hands up in the air. “How is anyone supposed to keep up with who’s who… It’s too complicated.”

He chuckles and reaches for the remote. “We’ll see about how much I get.”

The on-screen drama resumes and Steve settles back into a corner of the couch. He beckons you to come closer and it’s just so hard to resist. Maybe you shouldn’t do this. You’re just _friends_.  
But while your brain is still trying to find an answer, you have already moved and he wraps his arms about your middle from behind as you lean back against him.

For a while the both of you simply sit in silence and enjoy the warmth and comfort of each other.  
Then Steve leans in, whispers in your ear. “I don’t know what’s going on but I like this guy’s style.”

You cannot help but laugh. “What. You’re gonna grow a two foot long beard now?”

“Maybe!” He’s trying to sound serious but eventually breaks down chuckling.

Warm breath tickles your skin and you have a hard time not to moan. Why is he doing this to you? You try to push the thought away, blame it on how long you haven’t seen each other. Maybe focusing on the action on screen will help.

After a few more minutes of trying to get your act together, Steve’s hold on you slackens somewhat. You feel his body twitch lightly; it’s that sort of involuntary muscle movement that gives away when somebody is falling asleep.  
Not much longer and he is snoring. You close your eyes, relax. Just few seconds of rest, then you can extract yourself and…

“Hey… sorry to wake you….”

Steve’s voice pulls you out of your slumber.

“…but can you get up? My back is killing me.”

You grunt, try to move your stiffened muscles. _Oh hell._

“Ouch… Agreed. This sofa is somewhat deadly.”

Steve helps you up, carefully steadying you with his large hands on your back, before unfolding himself from the couch.

You yawn, stretch your arms over your head to fight the pain in your neck. The denim shirt rides up and you remember you’re not wearing anything but panties underneath.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep as well,” you mutter, smoothing down the shirt.

“So I started the snoring contest, eh? Sorry.” Steve tilts his head to the left, then the right. His spine makes a popping noise. “Sheesh. What time is it?”

He’s trying not to stare at you but it’s not really working out that well. The blue eyes catch on your bare calves and he slightly shakes his head as if that could sever his gaze from your body.

“No idea.” You grab the remote and switch to the news channel. “Uh. It says 3 a.m. here?”

“Fuck.” Steve rubs his eyes. If he just weren’t so tired.  
“I need to go home. I have to be at the office at 9 a.m. for debriefing.”

“You’re not driving while half-asleep. It’s too dangerous! You sleep here,” you hear yourself say with authority. _  
Where did that come from?_

“Listen, I can’t sleep on that couch,” Steve replies. “I would but I won’t be able to walk when morning comes. Sorry.”

“Who says you’re going to sleep on the couch? I got a kingsize bed. That should fit even you. Let the small person take the couch.”

He shakes his head. “No way do I make you sleep on the sofa in your own home. That’s just wrong.”

You snort. “Don’t be ridiculous.”  
And without further ado, you gently push him towards the bedroom.

Too tired to fight, he complies.

“See? There. Big bed for a big boy. Go to sleep.”

By now Steve is laughing. “Okay, okay!” He turns towards you. “But you can’t sleep on that couch.”

“Are you trying to insult my furniture?” You poke him in the chest.

“Yes, I mean. Look.” He waves his hand at the bed. “This _is_ big enough for two adults to sleep in right?”

The suggestion makes your jaw drop. You haven’t thought about it like that at all.

“Well…. Yes. No.”

If you have to sleep in the same bed with him, you’re going to break down and do something stupid. You can feel it. You _know_ it.

Steve strokes his mustache. “We’re grown-ups, right? I won’t accept anything but a decent compromise. Let’s just do this. There’s nothing to it.”

 _Damn._ The way he raises his eyebrows at you, smiling, immediately overrules any logical objection you might have come up with.

“I guess we could do that.”

“Yes. There’s really nothing to it,” Steve repeats.

That he has to mention it twice is not very reassuring.

Defeated though, you sit down on the bed and take off your socks. If you say no, it looks like you’re a douche. Doesn’t it? Besides, you _do_ want him to stay.

“There’s a spare pillow and blanket in the closet.”

The wooden door creaks when Steve takes out the bedding and you hear the rustle of clothes being taken off shortly after.  
You don’t turn around, though. It’s too dangerous. And you certainly won’t change out of the denim shirt with him in the room, even if you’re sure he’s not looking either.

Quickly snuggling under the covers, you wait for Steve to join you in bed. Only after he has turned off the lights do you dare to steal a glance.

It’s childish, you know that but you have never felt this vulnerable, this prone to mess up a perfectly good friendship. You always thought people who tried to get with their best pals were dumb. And suddenly all you can think about is that Steve is in your bed and you want to… touch him, feel him, smell his hair, maybe even kiss him.  
Definitely kiss him. _  
Shit._

You roll on your back. The mattress shifts as Steve does the same.

Ten minutes ago you were dead tired. Now you’re wide awake. Sleep would be a graceful solution to the ache of longing in your chest but it seems very far away.  
Perhaps all you have to do is close your eyes and wait for it to happen?

It’s not working.

“Hey.” Steve whispers in the dark.

“Hey.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

“You think two grown-ups can sleep in the same bed and you know… hug?”

 _Jesus Christ._ You can’t help it. This is too sweet. “Steeeeve…” You want to chide him and yet it sounds more like an invitation.

He realizes it, too.

Steve moves. You know because the mattress moves with him. Then a hand steals under your blanket, fingertips graze along your thigh.

“I’ve missed you terribly.”  
There’s something in the way he says it that tears down all your defenses. His voice is thick with emotion. You’ve never heard that before.

So you turn towards him and find yourself in his arms, face pressed against his bare chest.

Steve holds you close, takes a deep breath smelling your hair. He sighs. His hands rest on your back and draw little circles.

It’s all strangely chaste and yet more intimate than anything you could ever imagine.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you whisper.

It’s like this, wrapped around each other, reassuring yourselves of the other’s presence, that you both eventually fall asleep.


	2. Hidden Treasure

You wake up with a start as the telephone on the nightstand rings. Disentangling yourself from Steve’s hold, you push the blanket off and desperately pat around in the dim light in search for the receiver.

“What?”

At the other end, Javi spills out a string of words that your brain cannot quite make sense of yet.

“Eh?”

“I said I need to talk to Steve.” Peña sounds impatient.

“How… What? What makes you think he’s here?”  
The moment the question is out, you know you probably sound like you’ve been caught red-handed at something illegal. Damn.

Peña sighs. “He’s not _at home_ but he’s been back since last night. Now, can I talk to him?”

“Yayaya, OKAY, alright!”  
Fuck Javi and his investigative skills.

“It’s for you, Steve.” You hold out the phone to Murphy as if it were poisonous.

“What time is it?” he groans in reply, struggling to push through the brain fog of waking up too early.

“It’s ime to talk to your partner. Javier. Smaller guy, dark hair. Greasy mustache. Likes to call at SIX am.”

“I can fucking hear you…” Peña yells at the other end of the line.

“Good.”

Eventually, Steve takes the phone out of your hand before the situation escalates any further and mutters a tired greeting into it.

You decide to leave the boys to their work talk and get out of bed. From the sound of it, you’re sure Steve has to come in. Whatever happened, a call from Javier at this time of day is never good.

Waving to get Steve’s attention you mouth the word _coffee_ and leave the room.

Only ten minutes later he joins you at the kitchen counter. Steve stretches his arms over his head and sniffs the air to get a whiff of the freshly brewed coffee.

“What did Javier want?” you ask as you pour a cup and hand it to him.  
 _Christ_ , he could at least have put on a shirt.

“Multiple homicide. I have to go soon.”  
Steve takes the mug and carefully sips the hot beverage.  
“Thanks.”

“What about me? Do I keep my day off?” The last thing you need right now is your free time revoked to face Javi.

Steve nods. “Yeah, you’re off the hook. Martínez will help secure the crime scene and take photos. But I really need to hurry.”

Of course. The job comes first, you know it from experience. And still you can’t help feel the disappointment of not being able to spend more time with Steve, sleepy, cuddling…in bed. Not even a breakfast will happen. It’s selfish to think like that, you know, but it doesn’t placate the ache in your chest.

“You go take a shower and I get some clothes from the luggage in your car,” you suggest.

“That would be great.” Steve smiles at you as he puts the mug on the counter.  
“Thank you.” His fingers gently graze your arm. “I’m sorry I have to rush like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. We work for the same demanding employer, remember?”  
Steve is so sweet, you can’t resist the temptation to caress his stubbled jaw with the back of your hand. When did it get like this between the two of you? Has it always been that way?

“Now go, have a shower. If Javi calls a second time, I’ll have to kill him.”

While Steve is in the bathroom, you go downstairs into the parking garage. It’s a private parking space so you haven’t bothered with getting dressed. There’s no one around this early anyways and you slip into Steve’s car unseen.

The suitcase is a complete mess. Everything is simply stuffed in there randomly and you need to rummage around to find some clean looking clothes. After a while you have dug deep enough to produce a still folded shirt, fresh boxers, socks, some decent looking pants.  
And underneath those you find a photograph.  
Of you and Steve.  
 _Oh._

The picture is framed and was obviously wrapped in the clothes for protection.  
 _Wow._ You remember when Martínez took this at work about three months ago.  
Both you and Steve turned upon hearing your names called out, coffee cups in hand, smiling at the camera.  
Steve took this with him to the US?  
Your thumb caresses the wooden frame as you’re hard pressed to compute what all this of means.

Then you remember why you came. The clothes. _Ah, fuck._ No time to lose!

You put the picture back in the suitcase and bring the rest of your finds upstairs where Steve is still in the shower.

“Aye,” you knock on the bathroom door and wait for a response. It takes a minute or two, then the door opens just a little and Steve holds out a hand.  
You give him the clothes, then politely step away again. No peaking. For the sake of your own mental health.

With your mission accomplished, you return to the kitchen. You pass the time by preparing a sandwich for Steve. His favorite even. Bologna with pickles, cheese, mustard and mayonnaise – no onions. You haven’t made one of these in two months, you realize.

Eventually, you wrap the sandwich up and put it in a paper bag.

How long does it take for Steve to get dressed?

Because there’s nothing to occupy your mind anymore, you sit on the counter dangling your bare feet, thinking about that goddamn picture in the suitcase again.  
Why was it there? It should weird you out but it just makes you feel all warm and tingly inside. Did Murphy have this in his bedroom? Or on his desk at the office? You can’t even ask him. That’s out of the question for sure.

You’re still lost in your thoughts when Steve walks up to you. His pants are somewhat crinkled and the shirt has creases but in comparison to last night he looks ready to join human society again.

“Earth to favorite human. Can you hear me? Are you there?” He laughs and waves his hand to snap you out of your trance.

“Hm? Oh. You’re ready to go. What did you do in there so long? Give yourself a new haircut?”

“Close. Shaved. I used one of your disposable razors. And your shaving cream. I hope Javi likes the smell of _Summer Peaches_.”

You roll your eyes. “Stealing my personal care products and then complaining about them? Classy.” Staying serious is hard, though, and you inevitably break into a chuckle.

“Mhm.” Steve moves closer. “Touché. Wanna smell me?”

The next step he takes requires you to spread your legs as you still sit on the counter, so he can step in-between and come close enough.

You’re not really thinking about it even. You just go with the moment.  
And Steve leans in. His hand comes to rest on your hip.

Sighing, you take a deep breath in the crevice of his neck. _Oh, this is good.  
_ “You _do_ smell like peaches.”

As if suddenly too self-aware, he pulls back again. His eyes evade yours but his hand slides down from your hip to your thigh, fingers drawing little circles on your bare skin.

The touch sends goosebumps down your arms.

“Listen…” he begins. “I wanted to ask you… if… maybe you want to have dinner with me tonight?”  
Finally, the clear blue eyes meet your gaze. “I thought we might go to that fancy place in La Macarena. We’ll dress up in our best clothes. It’ll be fun. Just you and me?”

His hand still lingers on your thigh, softly caressing. You’re not sure Steve even realizes what he’s doing there.  
You swallow hard and push all the needy thoughts to the back of your mind, all these ideas of what that hand could do to you.

“Sure,” you say, voice thick with emotion.  
The restaurant he’s talking about is one of those places famous people go to. Important people.  
“So, we’d have to wear chic clothes? You think they won’t throw us out as soon as they realize we’re in costume? How do you even get a table at such a place?”

Steve chuckles. “Somebody owes me a favor and I thought I might cash it in.”

“Hm. And you’d break out the good suit, too?” You raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes mam,” he nods. “We’ll mingle with the important people and behave impossibly mundane. And nobody will dare throw us out.”

“Okay. It’s a date, then.” A smile lights up your face as you feel the heat flush your cheeks.

“Great. I’ll come by at 7 pm to get you?”

“Yes. Perfect.”

Steve bites his lip, then pecks a chaste kiss on your cheek. And as if he has spooked himself, he withdraws for good.  
“Okay. I have to go. Need to hurry. I see you tonight!”

Murphy is already at the door when you call his name.

“Steve! Your breakfast!” You jump off the counter and run after him to press the paper bag in his hand.

“Thanks. You’re too good to be true,” Steve says.  
And then he’s gone.


	3. Dinner for Two

You eat breakfast in the living room, comfortably snuggled up on the couch but it’s hard to fully enjoy it alone.  
You’re not so sure anymore it’s a good thing that you have a whole day to yourself with no places to be. And as your mind wanders, you inevitably revisit last night, ponder what happened this morning. It’s that damn picture you cannot forget. Steve’s gentle touches you cannot stop thinking about.  
Oh, and did you agree to a real date earlier or will this simply be an evening with a friend? Steve said, “It’ll be fun.” Which makes you think that maybe that’s all it is supposed to be.  
He also said “Just you and me.” Just the two of you.  
It’s driving you crazy. If this is more, you want it. You want it desperately. But you’re scared as well because you don’t want to fuck it up, don’t want to end up heart-broken. There is a reason why you made that rule not to date anybody you work with ever again.

Your coffee is cold by now and the half-eaten French toast doesn’t look too appealing either. Yet, you still wolf down the leftovers because going hungry will only make you cranky.  
Maybe you should think about what to wear tonight instead of trying to fathom the nature of your dinner with Steve? It really wasn’t a joke when you asked him to put on a decent suit.

So a few minutes later you stand in front of the wardrobe and rifle through different options. A black dress. This one? No. The cut is too out of fashion for where you’re going. Ugh. The lacy pink and white one isn’t it either. The old bridesmaid dress makes you look like a cream cake...  
The next piece you pull out is a deep emerald green; its fabric is soft under your fingers. You have bought this dress a few weeks ago. Have never worn it since. It was something high-priced you saw in a store window and purchased on a complete whim. Actually, you only intended to try it on for fun to treat yourself. It fit so perfectly, though, that you went out of the shop with a designer dress, matching heels, a handbag and significantly less money in your bank account.  
Maybe today is the day?  
You put the green robe on and spin in front of the bedroom mirror. It still hugs your waist perfectly, the wide skirt is flowing as you move. The cut brings out your chest but not too much to be considered inappropriate in the context you intend to wear it tonight.  
Yes, today is the day.

You take the dress off again and put it carefully on the bed.  
That decision being made you realize you need something to do for the rest of the day to not go crazy. It’s only 11 am.

With a sigh you make up your mind to finally sort out your photo collection. Not the gruesome work stuff with the crime scenes but the art pieces you shoot in your free time. You’ve been asked, no pressed really, by an acquaintance to make a portfolio. She wants to show it to a business partner who owns a gallery or something like that. Not that you’re convinced anything will come out of it. But it will perhaps be enough of a distraction until it’s time to finally dress up for dinner with Steve. And if not, you can always squeeze in a few episodes of your favorite soap as well.

The doorbell chimes at ten past seven and when you open the door, Steve offers you a puppy-eyed look and an apology.

“Sorry I’m late! I got kept at –” He pauses just the briefest moment as his eyes scan your outfit, linger on the silver pendant around your neck, then flit down to your chest and waist, “– the office…”

You smile at him. “It’s fine, Steve. It’s only been ten minutes.”

As far as you can see, he has kept his promise. The suit he’s wearing is nice. Much nicer than those horrible beige summer atrocities that make him look like a shady insurance agent. No, this one is a dark maroon color, well fitted to his height and the width of his shoulders. Even the tie matches it.

“You look good,” you say because Steve still seems to be frozen in time, staring at you.  
“Why have I never seen this suit before?”

The question eventually registers and he blushes a bright pink. “Oh that. Yeah.”  
“Wore it to work once and Javi made fun of me all day. Asked if I had to give a speech in parliament…”

You laugh softly. “Of course he did. Probably jealous. Well, I think it’s perfect.”

Steve bites his lip. His eyes fix on yours. “You’re so beautiful,” he says eventually. “The dress is stunning on you.”

Now that he said out loud what his gaze already suggested, you feel a little self-conscious.

“Enough with the compliments,” you mutter. And add with more confidence than you really feel, “Shall we go?”

Never have you ever been to a place so high-class – and pretentious – before. This is the kind of restaurant that doesn’t have prices on the menu and where the waiter has to present the wine to you in a formal way.  
It’s a miracle if they let you inside is what you think but when you approach the entrance on Steve’s arm, your names are on the list and you’re led to a nice table with a splendid view from one of the large windows.  
The room itself is airy; there are few decorations apart from some pieces of what you understand to be modern Colombian art. Under the ceiling vintage chandeliers glitter and their light is warm and welcoming. It’s an odd but appealing mix.

The waiter politely pulls out a chair for you to sit and you follow his lead. Menus are being shown to the both of you and you’re only too happy to let Steve chose a wine.

Once the two of you are alone again, you lean over the table in a conspiratory manner.

“Do you need help with your food order?” you whisper, hard-pressed not to giggle.

Steve grins and leans closer, too. “Yes, please. You know I can’t read Spanish well. I bet even if I did, I wouldn’t know half of the food on the menu.”

“Okay. I see what I can do.”

You read through the options, deliberately making faces, then put the menu aside and fold your hands. There is a moment of silence.

“Are you going to tell me what I will eat tonight or is it a secret?” Steve inquires.

You smile at him. “Secret.”

“Thought so. I guess I just have to trust you.” He’s saying it to tease information out of you but it’s not going to work. Your lips are sealed.

Steve is just about to launch into some of his DEA interrogation techniques, when the waiter returns with the wine.  
The bottle is presented to both of you, then opened. As you take a sip from your glass, you cannot help but feel a little ridiculous. You know full well that it would be an affront to send the wine back, even if you disliked it. This is a sham tasting and Steve’s slightly raised eyebrow tells you he thinks the same.  
Luckily, the choice was an excellent one.

After the spiel about the wine, you order the day’s special dinner for Steve and yourself. One can never go wrong with that. You’ll get your five courses perfectly matching. The only choice you have to make is between fish or meat and you know full well what your companion prefers.

“You’re a cheater,” Steve mutters as soon as the waiter is gone.

“Am I?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yes. You took the easy way out. I heard you order the special of the day. Smart move, Agent.”

“That’s why you like me, Steve Murphy. Because I’m smart.”

“Yeah, true.” He gives you a big smile, complete with tiny laugh lines around his sparkling blue eyes. It’s one of those smiles that never fail to make you a little weak in the knees.

You have finished the appetizer and are going for the soup when Steve suddenly puts his spoon down and excitedly nods his head at you.

“Look,” he mouths. “Look to the right.”

You follow his gaze and your eyes go wide.

“That’s her,” you mutter. “It’s Margarita from Café!”

“It is her, right? How is it possible that she looks exactly like in the show? Even I can recognize her and I barely watch except when I’m with you.”

You try not to be too obvious when you crane your neck to follow the woman’s path through the restaurant.

“Get an autograph,” Steve whispers.

This is an outright shocking suggestion. It’s also an enticing one. He is teasing you of course.

“I can’t just waltz up to her and ask for an autograph. In here. Where she wants to enjoy a meal in peace. What would I even say? Good evening, you don’t know me but my partner here works for the DEA and he smuggled me into this super fancy restaurant by cashing in a dubious favor and ANYWAYS, I really love your TV show, may I please get your autograph?”

“I’d leave the part about the DEA and the dubious favor out. Maybe say it in Spanish, too.” Steve laughs softly. “Besides, I was joking.”

“Don’t make fun of me, Murphy.” You mock-pout at him. “This is a serious dilemma I’m facing. Manners, yes I have them or no I don’t.”

Steve reaches out to take your hand in his and puts a small kiss on its back. The touch is just a brush of the lips really but you can feel your face flush. _Shit._

“Maybe I should use my incredible charm and ask her? Seems like it’s working perfectly fine on you,” he murmurs.

Damn the man! An unchecked snortle bursts out of your nose and you pull your hand away to cover your mouth.

The old couple from the neighboring table gives you disapproving looks as you try not to make any more noises.

“Fuck you Steve,” you hiss. “If we get thrown out, I want it to be known it was your fault entirely.”

“Lies. All lies.” Murphy says. “My behavior has been impeccable so far.”

“’Tis not. You’re impossible is what you are.”

When you see the waiter approach with the main course you purse your lips and sit up a little straighter.  
Even Steve looks all serious and collected until man is gone again.

“Shit,” he chuckles. “We’re absolutely not good at this thing. You’re right!”

“Steve…shush.” You slip your right foot out of your heel and gently kick his shin under the table. “You gotta stop making me laugh.”

For a second, he freezes like a deer in headlights at the touch of your foot.  
“Alright, alright,” he brings out. “Let’s make a truce. For the main course at least.”

You nod your head and quietly retract your leg. “We’re just two absolutely serious grown-ups. Secretly ogling a Colombian soap opera star. Eating fancy dinner.”

“That’s us.”

The food is delicious and you sip happily on your fine wine, not feeling drunk yet but definitely a bit tipsy. Steve doesn’t seem to be entirely sober anymore either. His face is a little flushed, his eyes rest more often on your form than on his food.

“Look, Margarita is going to the lady’s room,” you suddenly blurt out.  
Fuck that truce! This is your only shot.

You slip your neatly folded napkin into your handbag and nonchalantly walk to where you just saw the actress disappear.  
It all happens so fast, Steve can only stare after you.

About 10 minutes pass before you’re back with a triumphant smile on your face and place the folded napkin in front of him on the table.

“Behold the spoils of war, Agent Murphy."

Steve takes a closer look at the piece of cloth and the writing scrawled across it.

“You didn’t!” he says in disbelief, still inspecting the signature. “You. Did. Not.”

“Did, too,” you reply, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

“How? Spill it.” He leans forward, face in his hands.

“A nice chat in the lady’s room. Powdering our noses, applying lipstick. Like cultivated ladies do. You wouldn’t know.”  
You cross your arms over your chest and lean back in the chair.

Steve cocks his head, squints at you. “Lie,” he mouths.  
“You know I can see your nose twitch just the tiniest bit when you bullshit me.”

“No you can’t. But…” Your smile widens. “…turns out she is having a terribly boring evening and when I very politely asked her if she would like one of my cigarettes, she said yes thank you very much. And gave me an autograph.”

He shakes his head. “Secretly smoking in the lady’s room. I believe that.”

“You better. I’m friends with a famous person now.”

“You’re not friends.”

“Yeah. Okay. I was incredibly lucky. And she was much nicer than she had to be. Probably because of the dress I wear,” you admit.

“A nice dress it is,” he agrees with a wink.

The waiter brings your dessert but enjoying your flan de coco doesn’t stop the two of you from bickering some more.

Steve shakes his head and grabs the napkin again. He eyes the signature intently.  
“Are you entirely sure you didn’t sign this yourself?”

“Oh, the insolence.” Once more you slip your shoe off and tap his leg with the tip of your foot. “Are you accusing me of lying?”

“Careful. Don’t promise things with your little feet you cannot keep.” Steve says and rubs his leg gently against you. The wine and your good mood have made him bolder.

“My feet aren’t little.”

“True, they are rather big.”

You stick your tongue out at him and the both of you start laughing. Screw the people at the neighboring table.  
  
But then Steve’s face takes on an inquisitive look.

Turning around you see a couple walk towards your table.

“Isn’t that your real acquaintance? What’s her name? Carolina?”

You nod. “Yes. That’s her. No idea who the guy is, though. And no idea what she’s doing here of all places.”

“I suppose we are about to find out.”

Carolina introduces her companion as Alexander Miller, a European businessman currently residing in Bogotá. The name actually rings a bell and as Steve shakes hands with him, you realize this is the guy you were preparing the portfolio of your art for earlier.

Miller’s hand lingers in yours just a tad too long for your taste and the unwanted touch sends a shiver down your spine. His smile is a bit too wide and his teeth are a bit too shiny. You don’t like the way he stares at your chest with those beady eyes.

A quick glance at Steve tells you he doesn’t particularly enjoy it either.

Meanwhile, Carolina is making polite conversation, talking about how she was just telling Alexander about your photos again. They are here for a late dinner. Just a quick business meeting, really.

You didn’t know this was where your friend had business dinners, let alone quick ones but say nothing of it.

Miller laughs, quips about meaningful chance meetings. His chuckles seem exaggerated and sound fake in your ear.  
He keeps touching your shoulder “by accident,” so you instinctively lean away from him.  
Carolina doesn’t seem to notice or at least doesn’t show it.

When you look at Steve, however, you notice his right hand is clenched into a fist. His lips are pursed, the eyes narrowed. Uh, oh.

“Maybe you’d like to discuss art after dinner?”

Miller’s question hits you completely out of the blue. For a second you stare up at him from where you are sitting.

Oh the nerve! Maybe you don’t want to discuss anything with a touchy-feely guy like that while you’re on a date!

“I am so sorry Mister Miller,” you hear yourself say. “But actually. Today is our first wedding anniversary.” You reach out for Steve’s hand and he nods solemnly at you as if you had planned this route of escape all along.

Carolina’s face goes completely blank. Of course she knows you are not married but the lie has caught her off guard and she is at a loss for words.

“Yes, you know how it is with the missus,” Steve drawls in an exaggerated Southern accent. “It’s a special day. Very romantic.”

You bite your lower lip hard to force yourself not to laugh.

“Of—of course. I am so sorry for the intrusion. Another time then,” Miller says and he offers Carolina his arm.

“Another time,” you agree. “Have a nice evening.”

“Another time. Like when hell freezes over,” you spit as soon as the both of them are out of earshot.

Steve is still holding on to your hand. His fingers gently caress yours. “You okay?”

“Mhm. I don’t know. This is the guy who’s supposed to put my photos in an art gallery.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. I think I’m not going to be a famous photographer all too soon. Because I’m not meeting this guy ever again. I don’t know what Carolina thought when she suggested this.”

Steve nods. “As your husband, I feel the need to applaud your decision. And to kick him in the nuts for being an absolute sleazeball.”

“Aw, you’re really the best husband one could wish for. Always so understanding.”

You both laugh.

“How about we finish this wine, drink the mandatory coffee and then get out of here? I’ll call us a taxi,” Steve suggests.

“Sounds perfect.”

Out on the curb, waiting for the taxi, Steve offers you a cigarette and you pass the few minutes in comfortable silence, smoking.  
In the back of the car on the way home you feel the need to scooch closer to him. It’s not that late yet but somehow the encounter with Carolina and her businessman gnaws a little on you. It has also sobered you somewhat.

“Hey,” Steve whispers and wraps an arm around your shoulder. “You alright, honey?”

“Hey,” you lean your head against his shoulder and after a moment of hesitation add, “Say, would you like to go to my place and have a romantic anniversary beer before parting ways?”

Steve looks you over and presses the softest of kisses on your brow. “I’d love that.”


	4. Nightcap

“Bad news,” you say, staring into the fridge. “Your fake wife forgot to put more beer on ice earlier and now there’s only one chilled bottle left for the two of us.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can share,” Steve says as he shrugs the suit jacket off and drapes it over the armrest of the couch.  
The squeaking of his shoes on the tiled floor announces that he has been following you to the kitchen area.

“Okay, great.” You smile at him and move to sit on the counter just like you did this morning.  
Your feet ache a little from the heels so you kick off your shoes and wiggle your toes, trying to bring them back to life.

“Ah free at last!”

Steve laughs. He reaches for the beer and uses his lighter to open it.

“Here, ladies first,” he says.

Your fingers brush against his as you take the bottle out of his hand to have a sip.  
“Thanks.”

The refreshing taste is exactly what you needed after the heavy red wine at the restaurant but it also makes you shiver involuntarily.

“Too cold?” Steve asks and comes a bit closer.

“The beer? No. Me? A little.”

You look up and find him staring at you, chewing on his lower lip. His eyes are ablaze. And suddenly you realize that this is not how best friends look at each other at all.

“Maybe I can help,” Steve says eventually.  
The raw edge in his voice makes your body tingle all over.  
 _Shit._

“Maybe, yes.”  
You put the bottle aside and the drink is already forgotten as you reach out to grab Steve’s tie to reel him in closer.

When he moves between your legs, you don’t protest but wrap them lightly around him.  
He leans down until your foreheads touch and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

The way he whispers your name, accompanied by a needy whine, is irresistible.  
You lift your head just the tiniest bit to make your lips meet his and when they do Steve’s hand comes up behind your head to pull you closer.

Immediately, your mouth opens up for him so your tongues can meet. There’s a moment of shy probing but soon you figure out a mutual back and forth together.  
All worries melt away in the heat of Steve’s kiss. His mouth is warm and welcoming. Now and then he pulls back to nip on your lower lip, teasing you. It only makes you want him more.

You put your arms around his body and gently graze the nape of his neck with your fingertips  
In turn, a hand finds its way under your dress. The fabric rustles softly as Steve lets his fingers glide along your bare thigh.

 _Oh.  
_ An unexpected moan tumbles out of your mouth and right into his.

“I want you,” Steve mutters against your lips.  
“From the moment I got on the plane back to Colombia,” he confesses breathlessly in between kisses, “I couldn’t think about anything but you. Holding you. Being with you. I missed you so fucking much.”

His words make your heart soar. You need him, want to feel him, all of him, tonight. And every night from here on out.

“Then take me,” you whisper in reply before pressing your lips together again.

The hand on your thigh gets bolder and gradually moves further up until Steve’s thumb rubs ever so lightly against your crotch.

You freeze for a second, electrified by the not-quite touch, then push your hips out to increase the friction. _More_.

Steve gets the hint when you move against him and his thumb presses down a bit harder. You feel the digit run over your clit through the skimpy fabric of your panties.

“Steve… Please…” The sheer thought of what his bare hands could do to you makes you flush with heat and you bury your face in the crevice of his neck to suck a desperate hickey among the freckles nestled there.

A deep guttural moan is the immediate response.

Carefully, Steve slips his thumb under the elastic band of your underwear and grazes it over your outer labia.  
You’re holding on to him for dear life now, fingers digging into the muscle of his back through the dress shirt as he splits you open.

“Fuck,” you groan, pushing closer still. His thumb coats you in your own juices, teasing your entrance.  
Then Steve finally has mercy and slides it in as deep as it can go.

“Mhm,” he huffs. “If you want.”

The words are muffled when you pull him into a greedy kiss to confirm that you do indeed want to fuck him.

While your tongues dance, the finger inside you curls to caress your inner walls until it hits a sweet spot.  
You whimper desperately against Steve. “More!”

Being past all stages of worry, you find that there is no shame. You know him so well, even if this particular thing is new, you can ask anything of him at this point.  
“I want more...”

“Not here, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “Hold on. We’re going to the bedroom first.”

His thumb slips out of you and you’re left quivering, wanting, empty. It’s all you can do not to whine disapprovingly.  
But strong arms quickly lift you up and you wrap your legs tightly around Steve’s body.

When he lets you down again on the bed, you cannot help but laugh.  
“This is such a cliché.”

“Didn’t like it?” Steve asks, a smirk on his face as he begins to undress in front of you.

“I didn’t say that.”

Damn this is sexy, you lying on the bed, watching as he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt.

“Do you like the view at least?”

“Very much, agent Murphy.”

Maybe you should break even, you think, and sit up to take off your clothes as well but Steve shakes his head.

“No, no. Keep the dress on. Please. Just get rid of the damn panties…” he says half commanding, half pleading with you.

 _Oh_. So he wants to fuck you in that expensive dress while he’s stark naked himself? That’s even hotter. That’s something you never even knew you needed.

You lick your lips, nodding. “Only for you.”

Within seconds you’ve wiggled out of your confining underwear and your eyes are back on Steve.  
He holds your gaze as his hands unbuckle the belt around his waist and his pants unceremoniously drop to the floor.  
This shouldn’t be so exciting. You’ve seen him in boxers only last night.  
And yet you hear yourself whimper softly in anticipation when he pulls them down and walks towards the bed.

There’s a confidence in those few strides that makes him even more enticing.  
You match him in boldness, though, drinking in all of him, never averting your eyes.  
Steve is big. Already hard for you. You can’t wait to find out what he feels like inside you.

“Pull that skirt up,” he groans and you comply, exposing yourself to him.

Steve moves on the bed and between your legs. His fingers caress your mound, trail over the neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters under his breath.

For a few seconds he is mesmerized by the view but he shakes himself out of it and you feel the tentative lap of his wet tongue against your pussy lips as he gets a first taste.

“Ah, Steve…”

Your legs spread further apart to give him more space, and you reach down to mess with his hair, take hold of the blond strands.

“Mhmmm,” Steve hums against you. He strokes your thigh while his tongue darts inside you. His other hand struggles to keep the mountainous fabric of the dress at bay.

Steve Murphy is good at eating pussy.  
Every moan every quiver and shudder of your body is a hint at what you enjoy and where to put a little more pressure. He takes it all in and applies whatever he’s learned immediately.

At first he keeps lapping at you, probing your insides until you gush with wetness.  
Only then does he move on to your clit. He licks it gently and finally sucks the swollen knob between his lips.

Heat coils inside you and you know what’s building up is going to wreck you. The touch of his tongue makes you mewl.

It’s Steve’s cue to gently push two long fingers deep inside you.

Your body is flushed, you buck against him for more and his mouth returns to your clit.  
After a while of deliberate, slow fingering, he picks up pace. The movements get faster, harder. All you can do is grip his hair and let your moans speak for you as they increase in volume.

When you can barely take it anymore, Steve briefly comes up for air. He holds your gaze; your expression is clouded with lust while he keeps pumping his fingers inside you.

“Come for me, baby,” he begs. “I want you to come for me. Can you do that?”

That look and his words combined with the way he hits your sweet spot push you helplessly over the edge.  
Your muscles clamp down on his fingers and your climax washes over you. Your whole body is shaking with the release of pent-up energy.

“Fuck… Steeeve….”

It takes a while to come down from this incredible high. Your breaths are ragged and your limbs feel like rubber. You are deeply relaxed and satisfied.

Steve grins and makes a little show of licking his fingers clean.  
Then he lies down next to you, swoops in for a long kiss so you can taste yourself on him. A gentle hand pets your hair as he presses himself against your side.

By now you’re completely lost and overwhelmed with feelings for this man.

His fingertips dance over your shoulder and when Steve breaks the kiss, he mumbles in your ear. “You mind if I take part of the dress off to admire your breasts?”

Warm air tickles your skin and you laugh softly. Yet, when you look at him, you realize the question was only half asked in jest. He means it, too. He needs an answer before continuing even though he has just shoved his entire tongue in your pussy. Damn, he’s perfect.

You nod, yes. You want him to go on.

Steve unzips your dress in the back and slides one of the straps down your shoulder. His fingers hook under the front of the gown, grazing your sensitive skin, then peel the fabric away to expose one of your breasts.

Soft lips ghost over your bared chest until Steve reaches a nipple. The tip of his tongue darts out to lick it and you sigh deeply.

“You like that?” he asks.

“Yes, don’t stop…”

He doesn’t. Steve sucks the pert nub into his mouth and flicks his tongue over it. You can feel your nipple grow hard with all the attention it gets.

With your arms wrapped around him so you can rake your nails over his muscled back, you draw a loud moan from him.

The teasings of Steve’s mouth on your breast make your insides tingle again and you know this is far from over. You want to make him feel good, too.

He’s been rubbing his hard cock against you for a while now so you reach down to take it in your hand.

When you touch his dick, Steve gasps. “Fuck, yes…”

“Your turn,” you breathe against his lips while your fingers map out every inch of him.  
At first you only run your thumb over the tip of his cock but then wrap your fingers completely around the entire shaft.

Steve pushes against you to get more friction, starting to fuck into your hand.  
His noises fill the room and listening to him is pure joy.

Suddenly, he stops. Before you can ask what’s going on he has rolled on his back and pulled you on top of himself.  
You straddle his hips, the dress flowing all around you.

Steve looks up into your eyes. “I need you. I want you,” he rasps. “Fuck me, baby. Now.”

 _Shit._ How is he so perfect? You reach under the skirt and take his cock in your hand once more, then slowly sink yourself down on him.  
His dick splits you open and enters you inch by inch. You sigh; he’s filling you so well.

Steve lets the second strap of your dress slide down your shoulder to expose your breasts completely. He cups them in his large hands and kneads them gently.

Leaning your upper body forward some more, you start to move your hips back and forth. His cock slides in and out of you easily with how wet you are.

Soon, Steve’s fingers travel down to your waist and he cranes his neck to suck one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Fuck me…” you plead as the touch sends goosebumps down your arms.

The words are barely out when Steve’s hips buck against you and he drives his cock deep inside you.  
Figuring out a rhythm with him is easy. It seems as if you’re magically in synch with each other but you’re sure it’s also because Steve is so perceptive of your needs.

It doesn’t take long for you to be close to another climax. “Steve, I’m gonna come again soon.”

“Will you touch yourself for me?” Steve huffs. “I want to see you come on my cock while you touch yourself.”

You’re too far gone to coherently speak but nod at him. Yes. Yes, you will do anything.

Steve reaches for the hem of your dress and pushes the fabric off to the side. When you look down you can see his cock pump in and out of you. _Fuck._  
You place one hand daintily on your clit while the other remains on Steve’s chest. Everything is covered with your juices down there and you’re all swollen and oversensitive.  
The fact that he watches while you get yourself off on him makes the experience even more intense. And it only takes a few expertly timed moves until you come for him.

The spasming of your cunt around his cock is what finally makes Steve climax as well. Warm cum floods your insides as he repeats your name over and over until his cock stops twitching in your pussy.

You’re both spent, exhausted, but happy. He pulls you down into his arms and peppers little kisses on your lips, your chin, your cheeks.

“Steeeve…”

“Mhmmm.”

You rest on top of him for a few minutes, cuddling, until the dress feels like too much of a barrier between the two of you all of a sudden and you want to get rid of it.

“Will you let go of me for a few minutes so I can go to the bathroom?”

Steve considers. “Maybe? What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll come back naked,” you reply, chuckling.

“Sounds good. Do you need anything from the kitchen? Water? The rest of that beer? I suppose it’s warm by now.”

“Water. Just water.”

You undress and clean yourself in the bathroom and when you return to the bed Steve is already waiting for you with the promised refreshment.

“Thanks.” You drink greedily, feeling somewhat parched.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks and his fingertips draw little circles on your naked back.

“Mhm,” you hum softly and lean into him. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

He pauses his movements, then resumes them again. “We didn’t use a condom. And I didn’t ask. I should have asked you. I’m sorry.”

You turn around to cup his face in your hands. “Don’t worry about it. I wanted it that way, okay? Besides, I’m on the pill. I knew what I was doing. I trust you. And you can trust me.”

Your foreheads touch and Steve nods. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You mean everything to me.”

“Then I suggest you lie down with me and kiss me and hold me tonight,” you reply.

“Nothing I’d rather do, no place I’d rather be,” Steve whispers and pulls you back into his arms.


	5. Bliss

Steve is wrapped around you protectively and his breath tickles your neck. You press back against him, reveling in the warmth of his body.  
It’s early morning, the sun is already peeking through the blinds and you woke up before the alarm clock had a chance to mess with the perfect bliss of your current situation.

A peck on your bare shoulder tells you that Steve is awake, as well.  
“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he mumbles sleepily into your ear.

You wiggle a bit in his arms until you are able to turn around and face him.  
“Mornin’ agent Murphy.”

Steve smiles at you. It’s completely disarming and whatever quip might have been on the tip of your tongue is immediately dispelled.  
Instead, you lean in and kiss him on the lips.

He hums against you in reply, fingers trailing the expanse of your back.  
“Waking up next to you is the best thing in the world.”

“Oh and last night wasn’t?” you say with a mock pout, trying to stifle a chuckle.

“Last night,” Steve says, “was definitely _out_ of this world.”

Heat flushes your face and you bury your head in the crevice of his neck. “Steeeeeve…”

“What? It’s true.” He has caught you in one of that bear hugs of his and holds you close.

“Steve…” your voice is muffled against him. Probably you shouldn’t ask this now but you need to know.  
“Last night. Last night was not just… friends with benefits, was it?”

And all of a sudden you feel terribly cold despite the heat of Steve’s breath on your skin.  
It’s as if the past has finally found a crack in your armor that’s big enough to seep through. _Shit._

“What!? No. No! It wasn’t.” Steve sounds taken aback.  
He peppers your brow with kisses. “No, sweetheart. I want to be with you. For real. If that’s what you want, too.”

You take a deep breath and nod. “Yes. Yes, that’s what I want. It’s… I’m sorry I asked it’s just… I couldn’t do that sort of thing again. Not. Again.”

“I know, I know.” Steve gently pets your hair. “I mean, I don’t know the details but Javi… Well, Javi said if he ever found out I’m playing you, he’d come and shoot my dick off. So I gathered that I better be serious about this.”

“Javi really cannot keep a secret, eh?” You kiss Steve’s chest, his neck, drag your lips along his stubbled jawline.

He groans softly. “How could I not want this every day of the week? How could I not want to wake up with you every morning? Told you, you’re my favorite person in the world.”

Steve pauses for a moment.  
“Hey. You want to know a secret?”

“Is it a nice secret?” you ask. Your eyes scrutinize his face.

“I think so. I mean. It’s a bit silly and a bit embarrassing.”

“Okay, spill it. My interest is piqued.”

He nods. “Right. You know that photo Martínez took of the two of us. During coffee break a few months ago?”

 _Whoops_. “Mhm.”

“So I might have taken that to the States to…look at it? I might have had it handy in my nightstand in case I missed you too much.”

“Steve…” Maybe it’s best you tell him now that you know about the photo.

But he shakes his head. “No wait! That’s not all. There is more.”  
Steve takes a deep breath and exhales noisily. “I went out with my new coworkers a few times. You know, go have a drink and relax, get to know each other. So two weeks into the whole thing I ended up leaving the bar and this agent, she’s a real cute one, she asked me to come home with her. No strings attached.  
And I said no. Apparently, I rather go back to my crappy hotel room alone than to go with her.”

You nestle closer and kiss Steve’s jaw again.

“So I lay in bed alone and I wondered how I could be so dumb. A really beautiful woman just offered me sex. And all it did was to give me a weird, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like I had been caught red-handed at some sort of betrayal. Like I’d done something wrong because she asked me that.  
I looked at the photo of us and it felt as if I had let you down.”

“You’re a dum-dum Steve Murphy,” you whisper against his neck.

“Tell me something I don’t know yet…” he mumbles.

“You’re **_my_** dum dum. You’re also the sweetest guy I know.”

Steve chuckles. “It gets worse. I got the picture framed the next day and put it on my desk for everyone to see. Guess that’s when I decided I needed to see you as soon as I came back to Bogotá.”

“Listen. I have to confess something…”

“Is it about how you snatched my shirt from work and wore it while I was away?”

You purse your lips. “No. And I didn’t snatch anything from anywhere. I kept your shirt _safe_ while you were gone.”

“Duly noted.”

“When I went in the garage to get you some clothes yesterday morning? I found the photo in your luggage.”

Steve groans. “God, of course you did.”

“I didn’t mean to pry and I was too afraid to ask you about it because I didn’t want to ruin anything. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I guess you must’ve thought I lost it. Creepy Steve hiding pictures of you in his underwear. Jesus…” He buries his face in the crevice of your neck.

“To be fair. We’re both in the photo. It’s not like you took a secret snapshot of me. So it’s a lot less creepy.” You laugh and nudge his shoulder. “I thought it was cute. Romantic really. At least I hoped so.”

Steve places a kiss on your cheek. “I missed you so much. I was bound to do something a little stupid, I suppose.”

“Mhmmm. Say, agent Murphy…” You gasp lightly as he continues to deck you in affection. “Should we get in the shower? Speed things up a little?”

“Absolutely. Although I don’t see how that will save us time…”

It doesn’t.

Warm water cascades down from the showerhead above and Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, your breasts and along your sides. His fingertips graze your nipples and you gasp.

As you move closer, he cups your ass to give it a firm squeeze.

“Steve…” you whine into his mouth and are rewarded with his tongue seeking out yours.

There’s soap all over the two of you but you’ve clearly thrown the idea of just washing each other overboard.

When you feel Steve’s hard cock against your wet body, all you can think about is how good last night felt, how much you want him again.

A few moments more of heated kissing and Steve spins you around in his arms, presses your front up against the wall. The tiles are cold on your skin at first but soon enough warm hands cup your breasts.

“I need you,” he whispers into your ear from behind, teeth grazing your earlobe.

All you can bring out in reply is a groaned “Fuck me…” as you push back against his groin to make your point.

And Steve is happy to comply. He uses one hand to position himself against your entrance and slowly pushes his entire length deep inside you. It’s easy going, too, because you’re wet for him already.

“Yes… Fuck…”  
The sensation is so overwhelming, your knees shake but Steve wraps an arm around you to help you with balance.

“You feel so good,” he moans and picks up a pace. His cock slides in and out of your pussy, slow, deliberately, at first while warm water rains down on both of you. It’s perfect and you let him know by the shameless noises of pleasure that tumble over your lips almost incessantly now.

“Harder,” you beg after a while, feeling the heat built up inside of you. “Fuck me harder.”

Steve groans, drives his cock inside you faster. His lips find your neck, and he bites you gently, his teeth scrape over your skin and leave red marks.

“Come for me, baby,” he urges you on with each new thrust of the hips.

“Touch me,” you whine. “Please…”

One arm still steadies you but Steve’s free hand slips from your breast down between your legs. Fore and middle finger find your clit and start to draw little circles.

 _Shit.  
_ He knows exactly what to do.

Just a few more strokes of Steve’s cock, a bit more pressure of his fingers on all the right spots and you climax hard, your whole body shivering with pleasure.

If it weren’t for Steve, your knees would give out but even as he comes inside you, moaning shamelessly, he manages to keep the two of you afloat.

“You okay sweetheart?” he mumbles. “Give me a sign when I can let go, yes?”

You nod, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Why is he so goddamn sweet?  
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just a moment…”

Leaning back against him, you take a deep breath. “Fuck, that was amazing.”  
 _Oh, did you say that out loud?_

“ _You_ are amazing,” Steve whispers in your ear.  
He’s still holding you in his arms.

“I wish we could just stay like this,” you say wistfully. “But I think we need to clean up otherwise we’ll be late for work.”

There’s a soft chuckle in reply. “I’ll just have to come back tonight, I guess, to go on where we left off.”

You turn around, smiling, and kiss Steve’s nose. “I’ll take your word for it, agent Murphy.”


	6. Chapter 6

Steve holds the baby close to his body, rocking the little girl gently in his arms. He steadies her head with one big hand and cards his fingers through the dark fuzzy hair.

You stare at the apparition in your living room for a moment longer then turn to Javi.

“Where did you get the baby?” you whisper. “Please tell me you didn’t kidnap a child.”

Peña shakes his head and drops the paper bags he’s been holding in his hands on the floor.  
“We didn’t kidnap a baby. We found her – abandoned.”

“Abandoned? What does that mean?”

Your eyes briefly wander back to Steve and you melt a little inside as you see him close his eyes and press a kiss on the tiny forehead.

“Her parents are dead,” Javi admits and purses his lips. “Escobar,” he adds. “Found her all alone. No family left.”

“I see. And then what? Why are you here? I mean. I know why you’re _here_. But what is going _on_?” You put a hand on Javi’s shoulder.

Working with the DEA in Colombia has fortified you somewhat against the shock of cruelty. Or maybe made you a bit blunt even. It’s a matter of perspective. Crime scene photography is definitely no joke here. But an orphaned baby makes your stomach cramp.

Javier leans in closer, tones down his voice. “I told Steve _no_ but he didn’t want to let go of her. I said we need to call child services but he insisted on bringing the little one home first.”

Oh, you can see that go down perfectly well. Especially if you try to square Steve’s disheveled appearance, the dark circles under his eyes, the messy and sweat-greasy hair with his inner state of being. Add a big soft spot for kids and a bit of stubbornness when it comes to listing to Peña to the mix and suddenly there’s a baby in your apartment.

“Javi, you need to call someone,” you say gently. “We can’t just keep her.”

“I know that. I thought I bring Steve here and then I’ll go call work about it. I couldn’t do it in front of him. He might have freaked out. But he listens to you.”

“Point taken,” you whisper. “By the way, what’s in there?”

Javi looks down at the floor where the paper bags are.

“All the useful stuff I could find in a hurry. Baby clothes, some baby food, nappies, toys. From her home.”

“Okay, listen. You go next door to Miguel. He’ll let you use his phone if you tell him that I sent you. Try to figure out what you’re supposed to do. Right? I’ll…” you hesitate. “I’ll take care of my boyfriend and the baby we have apparently already adopted.”

“Si, hermosa. Will do.”

Grateful that Javi has agreed to help, you turn towards Steve.

“Hey babe,” you say softly and get on tip-toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

He gives you a desperate look and instinctively moves closer.

“I couldn’t leave her. She was all alone,” he mumbles.

“So I heard.”

You reach out and pat the little girl’s head. Her big brown eyes focus on you.  
“Hi sweetheart. Welcome. It’s all good now. I can vouch for this big oaf, you know.”

Looking up at Steve, you meet his gaze.

“Do you think you can take care of her a little while longer? I’m going to call Fernanda about some baby items. I’m sure she can help us out.”

“You’re not mad,” Steve says and gnaws on his lower lip.

“I’m not mad,” you confirm. “Only a bit overwhelmed.” Your fingers caress his bare arms to emphasize your words.

“If we want to keep her here, that’s fine but then we’ll have to do it properly. Understood?”

He nods. “Yeah. Thank you.”

There is definitely a long talk coming up in the future but not now. Right now your brain has shifted gears into protective mode for both Steve and the little girl he brought home.

You take a peek into the bags Javi brought and find some glasses with baby food puree.

“If she gets hungry, I think you can feed her this,” you say and hold the glass up in the air then put it on the kitchen counter.

Steve has taken care of babies before, you know that. He has a lot of cousins, many with kids, and has been labeled favorite uncle by quite a few of his nephews. But in the state he’s currently in, you deem it wise to remind him of a few things.

“Don’t forget, plastic spoons only - unless you take the food…”

“…out of the glass before feeding her,” he finishes the sentence for you. “I know, sweetheart. Not my first rodeo.”

You cannot help but chuckle. “Sorry. I know you got this. I’ll better go call Fernanda from the phone in the bed room before Javi gets back here.”

Of course your friend is only too willing to help you out. Her youngest son has just outgrown most of the things you could use. She promises to pack everything up right away, the bottle warmer and assorted matching bottles, bibs, a duvet – even the crib. You’re lucky she had most of it stashed away in boxes already.  
Thanking her profusely, you tell her either you or a friend will pick the things up tonight.

When you go back into the living room, you find Steve on the couch with the baby. He’s feeding her and she seems eager enough. You can tell from the way his brows are knit in concentration that he is completely lost in what he’s doing.

Javi has returned from next door as well. He stands with his hands stemmed in his hips and watches his partner in amazement.

“What did they say” you whisper as you walk over to him.

“You’re supposed to keep her for tonight. But the boss says someone from child services has to come over tomorrow to see that everything is okay.”

“We’re doing just fine,” Steve chimes in from the sofa. He lifts the baby up to his shoulder and gently pats her back. “You tell them sweetie. We’re great together.”  
The baby burps and Steve wipes her mouth with a piece of cloth.

You find Javi raising an inquisitive eyebrow at you. “Did you know he knows how to do all of this?”

“Yep.” You shrug lightly. “Most likely he’s better than me at it, too.”

“Hm.” Javier rubs his chin. “I know nothing about babies to be honest. Is there anything I can still help with?”

“I called my friend Fernanda about some baby items. Could you maybe go to her place and get them? I--” There’s a moment of hesitation on your part. “I don’t want to leave Steve and the little sweetie alone.”

“Sure. Yes. I can do that. You give me her address and I can go right now.”  
Javi sounds almost eager to be put on an errand and you surmise it’s because the whole situation is making him uncomfortable.

You lightly touch his shoulder again. The leather of his jacket makes a soft noise under your fingers.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I know you’re going out of your way for us.”

Javi gives you a lopsided grin. “It’s not a problem.”

When Peña is gone, you join Steve on the couch.

“How’s it going?”

The baby is half asleep on his shoulder and he beams at you.

“We’re doing fine,” Steve whispers. “I think the little bean is tired.”

“Mhmmm.” You reach out to gently run your fingers through Steve’s blond mop of hair. “You look tired, too.”

“I’m okay,” he deflects. “I can manage.”

“I know you can. It’s not about that.” Your voice is soft. God, you love this man. How can he be so soft and so tenacious at the same time?

“Maybe you could still use a shower and some food?”

Steve bites his lip, nodding his head. “You’re right.”

You hold out your arms and he carefully hands you the sleepy baby.

“There she is.”

The child makes a little coo but as you gently rock her, she calms down again.

“I’ll make us something to eat when you’re ready to take over again. As soon as Javi is back with the crib, we can put her to bed and have some food. Deal?”

“Yeah. Deal.”

Steve gets up from the couch with a heavy sigh. When he opens the bathroom door, he turns around once more. His eyes linger on you.

“I love you so much, honey.”

You look up at him, smiling. “I love you, too.”


End file.
